Missing Tools
by Ris Fallon
Summary: Winry has an important job that has to be finished by morning, but someone's moved her tools! And of course, she jumps to conclusions much too quickly, sparking an argument that could build up for hours without Alphonse's interference.


1**Author's note:** This is for the guy I like. ((No teasing?)) I really have not known him very long, about 6 months tops, but he's one of my very best friends and he's finally admitted I'm one of his close ones ((he loves denying everything, so I don't know how serious to take him)). Anyways, he sort of reminds me of Edward..in like, this off sort of way. Ah, well he gets what I mean. I'm the reason he gave up ranting about HP and FMA- I hit hard 33. So anyways, I thought of this at...about 6 in the morning. No, I didn't just wake up. I'm more like..wondering when I'm gonna finally go to bed. So yeah, that's all there is to know, really...It's based off one of our 'days', so it may be a tad ooc. I don't care, kay? I'm allowed an off-fic once in a great while..

"You're such a three-year-old," a girl grumbled loudly. She was in her early teens, blond hair down to her back. Her hands were placed firmly on her hips, facing her best friend squarely. Her blue gray eyes flashed with exasperation. He just looked amused. That is, the golden haired boy looked amused _until_ he was compared to a three year old. Goldenrod eyes flashed angrily as he narrowed them in a glare that, he knew, had no effect on his childhood friend.

"Don't call me a little kid," he snapped, arms folded across his chest. Metal glinted brightly in the summer sun. The auto-mail arm the same girl had fashioned for him barely 2 years previous.

"Why," she asked tauntingly. "You're acting like one."

"Am not!"

"Are too!" Winry scowled, her temper flaring to match his. They could go on for hours without intervention. "Just admit it."

"I didn't touch your stupid tools, Winry," he denied angrily. "What the hell would I want with them anyways?"

"I don't know," she exclaimed loudly, throwing her arms skyward. "You expect me to know how you're damn brain works, Ed? I don't think even _you_ know that!"

"Excuse me?!" Edward's voice went shrilly in anger. She had some nerve..

"I didn't stutter," she said menacingly. They stared each other down, neither surrendering. As was typical between the two.

Alphonse Elric, Edward's younger brother by one year, stood hesitantly to the side, wondering whether or not he should intervene. It's not that they would..could hurt him, if he _did_ step in. There wasn't much two teens of around 5 feet could do to a seven-foot-tall suit of blue-gray armor. Still, their accusing shouts were enough to make Alphonse, accustomed to a lifetime of _being_ capable of getting dangerously caught in the middle, uneasy about getting involved.

"Um, Winry?"

"_What_, Al," the girl demanded, still glaring furiously at Edward, who stubbornly held her gaze. Her eyes didn't even flicker over to her younger friend, determined not to lose the undeclared staring contest.

Sometimes they really did fight like little children.

"Um, is it...possible that maybe Granny moved them," he suggested timidly. This time Winry did tear her gaze from Edward, though it was not in defeat. It was to fix Alphonse with a disgusted and annoyed stare. She didn't like her battles interrupted for pointless reasons.

"Gram knows better than to move my things without telling me. I have a major rush job due tomorrow," she added, her voice rising shrilly. She was nervous, she'd never _not_ finished a job on time before. And she was often praised on her talent as an engineer at such a young age. Such a damaging failure could really affect her business.

The boys exchanged slightly exasperated looks. It was as though a silent battle were going on between the two siblings. Winry barely even noticed. She was glaring at them each in turn, her cheeks stained pink with the flush of anger that had risen to them earlier when she'd noticed her tools had disappeared from the workbench. A prank, she'd assumed. Well, they'd 'fess up soon. If Alphonse knew anything about it, he'd admit it before long.

_Don't push it, Ed. She's mad enough_.

_She started it!_

_Brother!_

Edward sighed heavily, his auto-mail hand resting lightly on his waste as his flesh hand went up to his forehead, pushing back his bangs and holding the palm of his hand against his forehead as he closed his eyes for a moment, blocking out the sun. And Winry's stares.

"Look, Winry. I don't know who moved your things, okay," Edward said, the pitch of his voice rising questioningly. He had the air of someone who was trying very, very hard to be patient when they clearly had no patience left. But then, Edward had very little patience to begin with.

_C'mon, and she was calling _me_ childish?! Why would I pull some dumb prank with her tools anyways? She hits just as hard with them as without them_! It was like she was suggesting he'd plotted his own death!!

"Then who did," she demanded stubbornly, her eyes focused once more on Edward. He sighed again, not so heavily this time, as he shrugged. "Ed!"

"We'll help you look, okay," Alphonse offered, glancing at his brother quickly, hoping he could avoid another outbreak of shouting. Edward nodded slowly, starting to feel a little bad for shouting. Not too badly, since Winry had started it. Geez, he'd been _sleeping_ when she came storming around the corner. How could he have done it?!

"Yeah Win..They're probably in the house somewhere, just got misplaced or something," Edward said with a half-shrug, shoving his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.

Winry bit her lip slightly. She was still angry, furious even. But she needed to find them...and..they wouldn't offer if they knew, right? Still, naturally suspicious of any overly generous deed of Edward's, she didn't let herself look relieved for the assistance. She just huffed, walking back to the house with the two brother's following slowly behind her, Edward rolling his eyes at her pig-headedness.

**Author's note:** Oh damn those open-endings. Well, that's three pages of pointless frustration. And..the 'tools' are more like my drum sticks..cuz he enjoys stealing them at parades. Ha. So yeah, uhh...whatever, tell me what you think. I think this is a pretty good one-shot for it being 6:30 and one of the first open ended stories I've written in ages.


End file.
